


Love Unexpected

by PenguinofProse



Series: Smutty Saturdays [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Because he's bi now, F/M, He just is, Many Many Feelings, Masturbation Interruptus, Masturbation and Misdirection, Smutty Saturday, Surprises, They're not very good at asking each other out, bi bellamy, good ones mostly, it's not a big deal, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26934040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: In which Clarke finds herself in a most unexpected situation.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Smutty Saturdays [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930432
Comments: 32
Kudos: 178





	Love Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Smutty Saturday strikes again. This is set in some miscellaneous early S4 kind of time. Huge thanks to Stormkpr for betaing it. Happy reading!

Clarke has made a point of expecting the unexpected, since she came to the ground. She likes to think she's something of an expert at that, by now – very little phases her for long, these days.

But this? This is unexpected on a whole new level.

She only came here to ask Bellamy about the hunting patrols for tomorrow morning. Well, maybe for a hug, too, if she's being honest. The world is ending and life is stressful, so forgive her if she wants an excuse to hug her closest friend every so often.

Her closest friend who she might be in love with. _Whatever_. Bellamy – just Bellamy.

With the benefit of hindsight, she can see how this... situation has arisen. It's late at night, so when she knocked at Bellamy's door just now, she did so quietly. She didn't want to wake him up if he was sleeping. And in retrospect, she really should have questioned why he seemed to _groan_ her name in response, and how he knew it was her, rather than just striding straight in here.

But she's gone and done it, now. And so it is that she's staring at Bellamy, lying naked on his bed, his hand wrapped around his cock. The shaft of light spilling through the open doorway from the hall is illuminating a rather different kind of shaft, rock hard, distractingly large, and very much excited.

To reiterate, this is unexpected. But certainly not in a bad way, Clarke decides easily.

She's struggling to make sense of it. He's masturbating while groaning her name – that much is easy to understand on a logistical level, even if she's still nowhere near done processing it. But she just cannot fathom why he should need to masturbate at all. He could have almost anyone in Arkadia to warm his bed, she's pretty sure.

He could have her, if ever he actually got round to issuing the invitation.

It takes him a couple of seconds to realise she's here. Seconds in which he keeps working the length of his cock, groans her name once more, bites his lip as he grimaces with desperate arousal. That confirms it, she thinks – he wasn't calling out in welcome. He didn't hear her quiet knock. He was genuinely groaning her name in pleasure.

Wow. That's – that's a lot.

She can see the exact moment he notices she's there. He blinks his eyes open, panicked, and snatches his hand away from his cock. Erect and jutting above his hips, it sort of bobs there, in time with his awkward fidgeting as he fishes for something to say.

"Clarke. Hey. Sorry. I didn't..." He trails off hopelessly. _Didn't what_ , she wonders. Didn't hear you knock? Didn't mean to groan your name? Didn't intend for you to walk in on me wanking over the thought of you?

She collects herself before he does. She's had a shock, sure, but it's a distinctly pleasant kind of a shock. So it is that she decides her open mouth can be put to far better use than simply standing here and gaping, stunned.

She approaches his bed slowly, deliberately. She settles herself between his legs, and reaches out a hand towards his cock. She came here for a strategic chat about hunting and a hug, but she figures this is better.

She takes him into her mouth, and hears him give a filthy moan in response.

Yes. As surprises go, this is definitely the best one she's had in a while. If only all unexpected news was this good, she thinks. It never occurs to her to doubt or question what's happening here. It turns out the best friend she has something of an enormous crush on wanks whilst groaning her name, and that's fine. She can deal with that. She can suck him off, maybe have him go down on her too, then ask her question, then go home rather happier than she came here.

At least, she thinks she can. But she's only been at it a couple of seconds when Bellamy reaches a hand down to her head – not to pull her closer, deeper, but to push her gently away.

"No. I shouldn't -" He mutters, eyes averted.

 _Shouldn't what_ , she wonders. She doesn't like this new habit he seems to have developed, of leaving sentences unfinished. He looks so vulnerable as he lies there, so guilty, and it sort of breaks her heart. It's not news to her that he struggles with a sizeable quantity of self-loathing, but this is one thing she doesn't think he needs to bother hating himself for.

"We can." She corrects him gently. "If you want to. I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to."

His eyes flicker up to meet hers. "Really? You want to?"

She nods. He hesitates another second, then nods in turn, trying for half a smile. And that looks a lot like an invitation to proceed, but all the same she hesitates. She really does want to respect his wishes. If he's genuinely not up for this, she doesn't want to push him. But if it's only his own guilt getting in the way, she thinks they ought to ignore that and take care of each other. That's what they do, isn't it?

He makes his feelings on the matter a little clearer. His fingers are tangling through her hair, and he's nudging her head back down towards his cock.

Great. That's that settled.

She's actually never done this before, having been with more girls than guys, but she knows the theory. And she's a firm believer in using her head, so as long as she follows the tips she's read she should be fine, she figures. She concentrates carefully on taking him as far down her throat as she can, on using her hand to stimulate what she can't reach with her mouth, on listening to his response and adapting her approach accordingly.

It only takes her a couple of minutes to decide that it doesn't much matter whether she's well-practised at this or not. Bellamy seems to be having a good time no matter what she does, groaning ever louder, his fingers now tugging gently at her hair.

"So good, Clarke." He tells her, breathless and urgent. "So hot."

She preens a little, even as she keeps working the length of his cock. He thinks she's hot. On a logical level, she supposes she must have realised that was true the moment she walked in here and figured out what was going on. Best friends don't fantasise about best friends unless they're also somewhat attracted, she's pretty sure. But all the same, it's good to hear it said out loud.

"You look perfect between my legs." He tries, this time. She feels arousal flare between her own legs in response. Maybe they can get to that in a moment, she wonders.

She speeds up a little, growing in confidence. She focuses more of her attention on the head of his cock, hears his panting grow almost panicked in response.

This is good, she thinks. This is affirming and encouraging and downright sexy. She doesn't even mind that he's clearly close to coming already, that this will all be over quickly. Because she's pretty optimistic that there will be more chances to try things like this in their future. She's convinced that when close friends start sleeping together, that means good things lie ahead.

In short, this feels special. And it feels like the start of something _awesome_.

He cries her name as he comes – actually _cries_ it, out loud, like something out of a heated dream. She finds that she's clamping her legs together, desperate for a little friction.

No, there's no urgency. She's sure her time will come.

After a couple of seconds he nudges her head away, his hand cupped around her cheek. His thumb sits just below her lips, and she wonders whether he's trying to wipe up a drop of come she missed or whether he just likes touching her there. Either way, it feels sweet, and tender, and however keen she is to attend to her own building arousal, she's more than content to stay here and enjoy this peaceful moment a few heartbeats longer.

But then, suddenly, his hand falls away. She looks up at his face and it's as if a switch has been flipped – all at once he's wearing the cocky smirk of the man she first knew at the dropship.

He doesn't look like a guy who would stroke her face any more.

"Want me to return the favour?" He asks, light, a little arrogant.

She shakes her head, annoyed at the abrupt change of atmosphere, her arousal already ebbing away to be replaced by disappointment. She doesn't want him to _return the favour_ , as if they were just two acquaintances who enjoyed having casual sex. It's not that casual sex isn't fun, but that's not what she wants from Bellamy. She wants him to acknowledge that what they just shared was incredible, that he's been moaning her name by night, that they're falling in love as they wait for the world to burn.

How can _returning the favour_ even come close to that?

She fishes around for her usual calmness and pragmatism. She mustn't let her sinking heart and burgeoning shame show on her face. She forces her mouth into a bright smile, hopes it matches his smirk.

"No, all good. I actually came here to ask you about the hunting patrols for tomorrow." She tells him, pulling away and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Huh. Damp. And salty. No, she mustn't dwell on that.

"You did?" He asks, that charming mask still firmly in place. He doesn't even make any attempt to cover himself – he just lies there, naked and grinning.

"Yeah. I've noticed the dawn and evening patrols are catching more than the midday ones. I was going to suggest you ask the guys on at midday to wait till the evening."

"Sounds like a plan." He agrees easily.

"Great."

There's an awkward silence. She hates that, because she's pretty certain that no silence between her and Bellamy has ever been awkward before.

And yet it endures.

"I guess I'll be going." She says, trying to push aside her emotions. That's what she does, right? She's good at it, in fact. So why is it such a struggle right now?

"Sure. Yeah. If you're sure I can't return that favour?"

Just for a moment, she hesitates. Just for a heartbeat, she wonders whether she can see his smirk start to falter.

No. Must be a mistake. It's very dark in here, after all.

She bats him away with a careful word or two, and strides back out the door.

…...

Clarke thinks about it too much, in the hours that follow. Overthinking things is something of a talent of hers. She's convinced, now, that she must have misread that situation. That Bellamy thinks of her just as he thinks of any other girl he might find attractive and want to hook up with – but also that their friendship exists outside of and distinct from this attraction.

He didn't think there was anything special happening there at all.

It's fine, she tries to convince herself. If he thought that was just like any dropship hookup, then that's fine. She knows that now, and she won't be led astray again. He doesn't need to be in love with her or something for her to continue to treasure him.

She feels better once she's managed to snatch a few hours' sleep and is heading to breakfast. She knows Bellamy was due out hunting at dawn, and the sun has now been up almost half an hour, so she figures there will be no embarrassing bumping into each other in the dining hall. She doesn't intend to avoid him forever, of course – it would be petty to avoid her closest colleague while they're facing a crisis just because he doesn't happen to be in love with her. But just for this morning, she thinks a little space to process her emotions could be a good thing.

But then Bellamy is right there, hovering just inside the door, obviously waiting for her.

"Clarke. Hey." He jumps to attention at her appearance, that infuriating smirk from last night still painted across his face.

"Bellamy. I thought you were going out hunting at dawn."

"Yeah. Yeah, I just wanted to wait a minute and ask you whether you wanted to join me."

She frowns, puzzled. He hasn't waited _a minute_ , he's waited almost half an hour. And why would she join him, anyway? He knows full well that she has a busy schedule today. Not to mention she's an indifferent hunter at best.

While she's thinking, he continues to speak, his smirk perhaps marginally softer. "I thought you might want to get out of camp for a bit, take a break and get some fresh air."

She shakes her head. "I can't. I've got to meet Kane in an hour."

"Yeah. Sure. Of course. I guess I'll see you later?"

"Yeah. Good luck out there."

He nods, and strides from the room.

…...

It happens the next day.

That's the strangest thing of all. At almost exactly the same time the following morning, in almost exactly the same place, Bellamy stands waiting.

"Hey. You want to join me for the trip to Niylah's?" He asks, before she has even managed to greet him.

She frowns. This is getting annoying, now. She cannot make head nor tail of it. He's determined to pretend she never sucked him off, determined to wear that damn arrogant grin all the time. But it seems he's also determined to invite her out on missions he knows full well she cannot make the time to go on.

"Can't. Agriculture meeting with Monty and the Coopers." She says shortly.

For a moment, she is certain she sees his face fall. She could swear that cocky mask cracks just a little.

But then he's grinning again, nodding, clapping her on the shoulder as if they are buddies on the guard rather than best friends and very occasional lovers.

"Have a great time." He offers, too brightly.

He's gone before she has chance to point out that's a very weird sentiment to wish someone before an agriculture meeting.

…...

It's Monty who makes her wonder whether there's something more at play. He catches her in the hallway after the meeting, physically stops her with a hand at her elbow.

"Clarke. Hey. Look – do you know what's wrong with Bellamy?" She frowns. Is he being weird with everyone, and not just with her?

"No." She says shortly. "What do you mean?"

Monty shakes his head, evidently struggling for words. "I mean – I thought we'd got closer, you know? Since Mount Weather we've been real friends. But these last couple of days he's all closed off. He reminds me of how he used to be at the dropship. You know yesterday evening he even seemed to be _flirting_ with Harper? And he keeps snapping at everyone."

She's a bright woman, so right away she starts trying to put together the pieces. She explores the possibility that maybe – just maybe – she's read this wrong. She thinks of the guy she first met at the dropship, who used arrogance and flirtation to mask his vulnerability. She thinks of how vulnerable he looked in bed the other night, and how quickly the mask came down when it was over.

Vulnerability. Masks. Huh.

"I'll try talking to him." She tells Monty, reassuring and determined.

Within minutes, she's formed a plan. She's going to invite Bellamy to eat supper with her. She's going to see if maybe – just maybe – they could try something resembling a date. Whether maybe she could help him be vulnerable in front of her once again, and maybe they could talk about what happened that night.

She's going to see if maybe he needs her just as much as she needs him.

…...

By that evening, Clarke has decided that it's only right she issues this invitation, now. She's spent the day thinking over that situation she walked in on the other night, and rethinking her own frustration that Bellamy never asked her to be anything more than his friend. She can see, now, that they both have their reasons to be nervous about this, and that perhaps it is for the best that she should try to make a move. She even allows herself to wonder whether maybe there was something behind those strange invitations to hunt or go to Niylah's after all. Maybe that's as good as romance gets, on the ground.

So it is that, by the time Bellamy pulls up the rover in the hangar bay and she runs to meet him, she's almost got herself convinced he's in love with her too. That's why she hugs him, a little too enthusiastic for just one day apart, and why she glows with joy when he hugs her right back.

"Welcome home." She tells him brightly.

"Hey. Good to see you. What are you doing here? Not in another meeting?"

"Not right now. I was wondering if you wanted to get supper together?" She says, a little nervous, but trying to keep her tone light.

"Sounds good. Just let me get this lot unloaded."

She feels oddly tense, as she helps him unload the rover, yet also excited. That kind of fizzing excitement that's on the point of tipping over into nervousness – not just butterflies in her stomach, but some kind of caged animal, pacing anxiously. Yeah, she really shouldn't be feeling this giddy over a relationship. Not right now. Not when they have people to lead and a crisis to avert.

And yet she does feel this giddy, so that's that.

They unload the rover in record time and head towards the canteen. Bellamy is still wearing something of a grin on his face, but it looks a little less like that hated smirk, she thinks. And his eyes keep flickering over to meet hers as they walk, and his gaze is softer than she's seen it since that night in his bed.

She was right.

That's what she decides. She was right to think that there's something more complicated going on here. That night really was special to him, he's just scared and not doing a great job of communicating about it. She can sympathise with that – she could have been clearer, too. But it's all going to be OK, starting here and now, with a nice quiet dinner together.

He goes through the canteen queue first. She watches him take his tray and cutlery, a portion of some miscellaneous meat stew, a cup of water. She follows behind, taking her meal as she watches him leave the servery.

And then she watches him walk straight over to a table where Raven and Miller and Monty and Harper sit eating.

She was wrong.

She was so heartbreakingly, crushingly wrong, and for a moment she can scarcely breathe. She should have known better than to get mixed up in romantic daydreams at a time like this. _Of course_ he doesn't want to have some date night dinner with her. He's just here to eat supper with his friends, and she's simply another Raven or Harper to him. Another woman he's slept with, some time or other, and now maintains an easy friendship with.

For just a moment, she wonders about saying something. How would he react, now, if she called out to him and said that she was hoping they'd eat alone?

No. It's a ridiculous notion. She mustn't make a scene in the dining hall. He's made his feelings plain, and that's all there is to it.

She follows right behind him, takes the place opposite his own at the table. And then she pastes a neutral expression on her face and tries not to look too obviously devastated.

"Clarke? You OK?" It is Raven who asks the question.

"Yeah. Yeah, fine." She lies carefully.

"You sure?" Bellamy asks, brows drawn. "You look pale. Here, have my bread."

"I don't need your bread." She snaps at him. She'd rather have his love than a sad slice of soggy starch. And if she can't have his love, then it seems she'll have to settle for this odd, newly-awkward friendship.

He looks hurt, his cocky expression slipping badly. He draws in a breath, evidently on the point of speaking.

Monty gets there first. He asks Miller some loud question about horror movies made on Earth before the bombs, and that's one of Miller's favourite topics, so a great deal of conversation ensues. Harper is a fan of horror too, it turns out, while Raven finds it both implausible and foolish.

Bellamy seems to have no thoughts on the topic at all. He seems to be entirely absorbed in staring at his supper, and frowning at Clarke, and smirking at no one.

The meal continues in a similar vein. Raven introduces a discussion on the finer points of rover maintenance, Monty wants to tell them about the latest advances in agriculture. All in all, it is the worst date Clarke has ever been on. And of course it's hardly helped by the fact that Bellamy has made it so clear that it _isn't_ a date.

Most infuriating of all, his portion of bread still seems to be on her tray. She puts it back on his plate with rather more force than strictly necessary.

By the time they are done eating, she's in a thoroughly bad mood. That will serve her right for getting her hopes up, she tells herself. She ought to know better by now than to expect happiness, even for a moment.

Her friends all stand up to take their trays back to the kitchens, and she tags along behind. Usually she's more one for leading from the front but she's _tired_ , damn it. Only now is she realising just how much she has come to rely on Bellamy, how much she has grown used to finding hope in their close relationship.

Raven, Monty, Harper and Miller are long gone by the time she walks out the door of the canteen. But there, just on the threshold, Bellamy is loitering. That seems to have become his favourite spot, lately.

"Do you want to get a drink?" He asks her, that too-bright grin firmly in place.

"Can't. Meeting with Kane." She answers automatically.

"How about after that? You could meet me in the bar when you're done?"

He seems a little less cocky now and more _earnest_ , somehow, she thinks. She wonders what's going on with that. She wonders whether this is him trying to ask her out, but then chastises herself for getting her hopes up so quickly once again. She really ought to be more accustomed to disappointment by now.

Most of all, she wonders why she's wondering. She never used to have so many questions about her friendship with Bellamy, she's pretty sure. It used to be solid, reliable, a relationship she knew she could depend on.

He must take her hesitation for refusal. His mouth drops, the smirk falling clean off his face as he suddenly starts scrabbling for words.

" _Please_ , Clarke. Please. I'm sorry, OK? I'm so sorry. I know I ruined everything. But please will you just give me a chance to show you I can do better."

That's Bellamy taking her by surprise for the second time in as many days. That's him standing on the threshold of the canteen and begging for a moment of her time with apologies on his lips and desperation in his eyes.

Huh. She never saw that one coming.

It's just so unexpected, so utterly shocking. There are literally people walking right past while he urgently tells her he's sorry for something she's pretty certain he never even did wrong. Wanting to comfort him, but aware that he'd likely be embarrassed if she went about hugging him in such a public place, she steps a little closer and lays a cautious hand on his arm.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for." She tells him firmly. "It was my idea, and I enjoyed it. I just wish it didn't make everything so awkward."

He looks up and meets her eyes, suddenly brighter. "You enjoyed it? Then why did you run away like that? Why wouldn't you let me -"

"Don't you dare ask why I wouldn't _let you return the favour_." She snaps. "Will you please quit using that phrase? I didn't want it to be like that, Bellamy. I didn't want it to be some exchange of casual sexual favours while you had that damn dropship smirk. I – I didn't want it to be like that with _you_." She concludes, weak but really quite annoyed.

He doesn't rise to her anger. He steps closer, looks down at her with a sort of confused warmth in his eyes. "What did you want it to be like?" He asks her softly.

"Bellamy -"

"Tell me how you wanted it to be." He reiterates, firmer. "Because I swear, Clarke, if there's anything I can do to make it work -" He swallows loudly. "If there's anything I can do to get you to give me another chance, I want to know about it."

"I just wanted it to be like it was until you shut down on me." She mutters, eyes on the floor. "It was great, OK? It was some of the best sex of my life and I didn't even get off. You were being so affectionate and open and making the _hottest_ noises." She concludes, flustered, but proud of herself for getting the words out.

For a moment, she takes stock. She makes a note of her surroundings, observes that she's just spilled out half her heart and a little too much detail about her sex life in the doorway of the dining room.

But then it no longer matters. Yet again, Bellamy takes her by surprise. But this time it's the best surprise of the lot, as he presses his lips to hers in an urgent kiss. She kisses him back. Of course she does. She reaches up to tangle a hand in his hair, relaxes into the kiss, lets her mouth fall open with a sigh.

All too soon, she remembers herself. She pulls back, her hand still knitted through his curls.

"I really do have to go to that meeting." She tells him, apologetic. "But we should pick this up again later. Shall I come over to your place?"

He nods, and she thinks he's never looked more beautiful. He just looks so utterly relieved, truly relaxed and happy, with a generous dose of warmth in his eyes. In fact, she notes, he looks much like he looked in that bed two nights ago, before he went and put his mask back on.

"Maybe bring a change of clothes for the morning this time." He suggests, tone teasing.

She reaches up to press one last kiss to his neck, and then she sets out to her meeting.

…...

_Bring a change of clothes for the morning this time._

It's not quite what she should be concentrating on, as she sits in a meeting about fuel calculations for the end of days.

_Tell me how you wanted it to be._

Her mind strays further from the task, distracted by memories of the way Bellamy groaned her name the other night.

 _Clarke_.

Damn it. When can she get out of here? It's quite difficult to focus on the matter at hand when she's hot all over with anticipation of what happens next. She can't help but imagine how great the sex is going to be, tonight, now that they know they're both on the same page rather than two casual friends exchanging _favours_.

"Clarke?" Kane prompts, frowning.

"I disagree." She says, automatically. She's learnt the hard way that it's best to be on permanent standby for an argument.

He frowns deeper. "I only said you should call it a day and go to bed, Clarke. You're a doctor. You have to know I'm speaking sense."

Oh. Right. That's what's going on here.

"I meant to say that I don't entirely agree." She corrects smoothly. "I think I should go to bed just as soon as we've finished the next point on the agenda."

She never does find out what the next point on the agenda is. For once in his life, Kane ignores her opinion altogether and orders her from the room.

…...

It's an odd feeling, walking down the hallway to Bellamy's quarters. She ought perhaps to be nervous, but after all the emotional energy she's spent on anxiety in recent weeks and months, she somehow cannot summon up so much as a twinge of fear.

No, maybe that's not it. Maybe she just feels too comfortable with Bellamy for nerves, now that she knows where they stand.

She doesn't know what to expect when she arrives. She doesn't know whether they'll fall straight into bed or whether they'll hang around and chat first. She doesn't much mind, actually, as long as they're together, and as long as she gets to spend the time with the real Bellamy, the one who's honest and vulnerable with her, not the arrogant ass she's been faced with these last couple of days.

She knocks more loudly on the door this time. She's learnt her lesson.

"Come in." Bellamy calls, and even in those two short syllables she can hear his happiness.

She opens the door, enters the room. Bellamy is sitting on the bed, fully clothed, evidently waiting for her. She closes the door behind her, and starts walking the short distance towards him.

"I'm sorry." He says, before she's even half way.

She sighs. She thought they were done with this. She's grown very tired of emotional whiplash, in recent days.

"Bellamy -"

"Let me say this." He bites out, firm. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you to start with. I guess – I've never known anyone like you. Anyone who seems to – to like me for _me_. So I thought I had to be someone else. I thought I had to be that popular guy from the dropship."

She snorts. "I never liked him much. He was funny sometimes. Good looking, too. But the Bellamy I met at the depot the day we found the guns was much more my type."

He breaks into a smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I guess I should tell you I'm sorry too. I like to think I'm so brave and smart but – I don't think I've been like that, these last couple of days. It scares me how stupid I act over you." She admits, embarrassed.

He doesn't judge her, of course. He only stands up, and closes the distance between them, and folds her in his arms for a hug. It's a good hug – their best, perhaps – and she allows herself to relax into his embrace.

"Still brave and smart." He reassures her softly.

She laughs a little, and he flinches slightly as her breath tickles his neck. Emboldened, she tries again, blowing gently on his skin.

He skitters away from her, breaking the hug.

"Ticklish?" She asks, brows quirked.

He nods. "This – this isn't going to be weird, right? We're really good friends and now you know that I'm ticklish and I like blow jobs. We're going to make it work, yeah?"

"Isn't that how a relationship works? Tickling and blow jobs with your best friend?" She asks pertly.

"I hope there's more to it than tickling." He offers mildly. "I know some people are into that, but it's really not my thing."

"What is your thing?" She asks outright.

He laughs. "Is that a hint? You want to stop talking and get into bed?"

"You can't answer a question with another question." She tells him, somewhere between exasperated and truly annoyed.

He stops laughing. He doesn't _stiffen_ , as such – he just grows more solemn as he nods. "You're right. I'm not trying to be difficult. I just – this is new, OK? I don't think I'm ready for that conversation yet." He acknowledges, eyes on the floor.

"That's OK. I get it."

There's a silence. Clarke swallows thickly. How does this work? Does she just ask him to screw her? Should she try something more subtle, like kissing him first?

As if he can read her mind, he steps forward and kisses her softly. It's a good kiss, more patient and thorough than the one they tried earlier. And it lasts longer, too, uninterrupted by duty.

At length, Bellamy pulls away.

"Can I go down on you?" He asks softly.

She nods eagerly. This is good. This is clear communication, and much less awkward than things were earlier.

There's also the fact that she really wants to get off.

That's why she unbuckles her belt, tugs her trousers down her legs. It occurs to her too late that this maybe wasn't the most romantic way to undress, but she's gone and done it now, so she sticks to her guns and pulls her shirt off, too.

Bellamy stares appreciatively, so she can't be doing too badly on the romance front.

"Could you undress too? I like oral better if we're both undressed." She explains somewhat self-consciously.

By way of response, he starts stripping off his clothes, tossing them haphazardly into the corner. She finishes taking off her underwear, until she's standing naked before him.

"I can't believe this is real." He says, a little hoarse.

"Me neither." She agrees. "Is it OK, though?"

"It's perfect." He confirms.

Things unfold more organically, after that. It's as if they've addressed the awkwardness by talking about it, and by taking off their clothes. Now Bellamy urges her back onto the bed, and settles himself between her legs.

She blinks urgently, trying to fix this image in place. This is her closest friend – who seems to be her boyfriend, now, as far as she can tell – ducking his head down towards her crotch. And then he's there, his mouth in place, and it's wonderful.

It's not just his mouth, either. There's the softness of his warm cheeks and cool hair against her bare thighs. There's his eager hand snaking up to palm her breast, then his fingers pinching at her nipple.

She catches his hand, tugs it gently from her breast and holds it instead. She doesn't need him to push all her buttons all at once. She wants to take this a little slower, enjoy the build up, rather than being overstimulated right from the start.

And apart from anything else, she really likes holding his hand.

"It's so good." She tells him, half reassurance, half sigh.

He makes a kind of humming noise, and the vibrations shoot straight through her.

"Not – not too much." She begs, half incoherent.

He seems to get the message. He backs off, keeps the pressure lighter. He focuses on rubbing her fingers as they hold hands, and on flicking his tongue gently. It's beyond beautiful, and it's everything she's ever dreamed of.

Then she makes the mistake of looking down at him once more. She makes the mistake of glancing at his dark curls nestled between her legs, her legs clamped around his strong shoulders. The sight of it gets her right in the core, and she feels herself twitch in pleasure.

It doesn't take much longer, after that. Or maybe it does and she's too blissed out to remember it – that could be a good explanation, too. Either way, it's beautiful, and it's Bellamy, and it seems like he's here to stay.

She comes quickly, but not very forcefully. That doesn't surprise her – it's often like that, when it's oral. And it means she's still eager for more, and that's definitely a positive, right now.

Her confidence bolstered by this first success, she tugs gently on Bellamy's head so she's looking him right in the eyes.

"What now?" She asks brightly.

"Up to you." He demurs.

"I want to know what you want. I know you've thought about it." She dares to point out, referencing the surprising situation that landed them here in the first place.

He looks away for a moment. She's still holding his hand, since she took it earlier, so she squeezes his fingers gently and waits for him to reply.

"You on top?" He suggests. "I want to watch you."

She grins brightly, even as she feels a spark of interest between her legs on hearing that suggestion. Her on top sounds like a wonderful idea, she decides easily. As it happens, she wants to watch him too. She wants to watch him gazing up at her with that look in his eyes that is over half way to adoring.

They arrange themselves quickly, Bellamy lying down, Clarke swinging her leg over his hips and then settling carefully onto the length of him. She notes in a flattered sort of way that he seems to be rock hard just from going down on her. That's pretty cool, she figures. That makes her think he must really like her, or something.

She starts to feel her pleasure building again almost at once. She usually has quite a long fuse, but she supposes that the emotions and affection and long-drawn-out tension built into this particular sexual encounter have heightened her arousal. Maybe she ought to be embarrassed about that, she wonders. Maybe she ought to apologise, or hop off and use her mouth for a while so there's some hope of Bellamy getting something out of this, too, before she runs out of steam.

"So good." He tells her, panting already.

Huh. Maybe it doesn't matter if she comes quickly.

"You like that?" She teases, slowing down for a second.

He grabs at her hips, urges her back into her rhythm. "Even better than I imagined." He tries to tease, but it comes out too breathless to really sound smooth and confident.

She doesn't care. She's always loved him honest more than she loves him cocky. Or, rather, she loves the way he blends the two, and the fact that she seems to be the only one privileged to see his softer side.

Damn it. She should probably stop thinking about love while she's riding his cock. She wouldn't want to say the words by mistake in the heat of passion – not when they've only just resolved their awkwardness.

She stops thinking such thoughts very abruptly, when Bellamy reaches up a hand to cup her cheek. That's an unusual move to make during the middle of energetic sex, she's pretty sure. Yet strangely, it works. It makes her feel cherished, even as she feels hot. Soft and sexy, perfectly balanced.

That's what she wants from their relationship.

She's ashamed to admit that she stops really thinking of his pleasure, then. It's difficult to concentrate on keeping her strokes long and fast for his benefit when she's coming, hard, grinding against him to wring out the last ripples of pleasure. But it turns out it doesn't matter because he's there, too, sighing so loudly she can almost feel the force of it.

Somehow, that's almost better than him crying her name. It's almost better to sit here and look down at the utterly relaxed expression on his face.

"OK?" She checks, tracing the plans of his chest with gentle fingers.

"More than OK." He assures her, thumb rubbing over her cheek. "You?"

"Pretty great. We should have done this months ago." She suggests lightly.

He laughs. "Maybe. But wasn't the long build up what made it so good?"

She giggles a little and lets him have that one.

She doesn't sit there much longer. It's a good view, but she can't hold very much of him from up here, and she wants to set that right. She climbs carefully off his lap, and settles into the bed next to him. She sort of has a plan in mind, but she's not sure how to go about putting it into action.

Screw it. If she's learnt one thing since she first sucked Bellamy's cock, it's that subtlety achieves nothing. Always better to get to the point. She nudges his shoulder away from her, until he's got his back to her.

"Clarke?" He asks, audibly confused.

She scoots closer, her chest pressed up against his back. She curls herself right around him, legs intertwined, arm slung over his chest. She's initially cautious about how he'll react, but to her surprise, he complies right away once he realises what she's doing.

He even sighs, as she pulls him right up against her.

"Is this OK?" She asks.

"Perfect."

Well, then. That's that one answered. They lie there for several long seconds. Clarke is very content to stay like this all night, if she's being honest. She can't really imagine anything better than falling asleep with Bellamy in her arms.

She's surprised when he breaks the silence. She wonders if he'll keep surprising her for the whole of their lives together, if only they can survive the end of the world.

"Being the little spoon." He murmurs, quiet. "That's what I'm into. I know that sounds silly – it's not exactly kinky, is it? But this is exactly what I want, and you're the first person ever to want that for me too."

She squeezes him tighter, a silent encouragement to keep talking.

"Girls always want me to spoon them. And that can be good – I love holding you, and I'd spoon you any time you wanted. And I've only ever been with a couple of guys, and too briefly to hang around and cuddle. But you – I always dreamed you'd spoon me. I guess maybe I thought I was just kidding myself."

"I always wanted to." She rushes to assure him. "I like the idea of you holding me sometimes too. But I love having you in my arms like this."

He sighs. She sprinkles a handful of kisses over his shoulders. They breathe together for a few more seconds.

"I love you." He says quietly, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Maybe it is, she wonders. Maybe that's why they've been so determined to make a mess of it, these last couple of days. Maybe they had themselves convinced that there could be no easy happiness while the world is ending.

Maybe exchanging love confessions with this man is not so unexpected.

"I love you." She echoes, with a soft kiss on his neck.

He sighs, shuffles even further back against her. He's going to scoot her clean off the bed in the middle of the night if he keeps this up, she thinks. The thought brings an amused smile to her face, even as she nuzzles into his hair.

He falls asleep quickly. She supposes that's probably no surprise. She's noticed before now that he doesn't seem to sleep very well as a general rule, on the occasions they have camped side by side. So it's only to be expected that he should drop off quickly now when he is the most comfortable and relaxed she's ever seen him.

She thinks too hard, as she lies awake and waits for sleep to come for her. But she isn't overthinking things in that negative way she's grown used to, not quite. It's more like she's full of ideas for the future she might share with Bellamy, overflowing with thoughts and feelings about their new relationship. She's planning little sexual treats for him, deciding that he'll really like being woken up tomorrow morning by her stroking his cock from this angle even as she spoons him.

It's one of her better plans, she thinks. Loving, peaceful, fun. And she owes him a pleasant surprise or two, after these last couple of days.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
